The rain started slowly.

Just a soft drizzle.

But by the time Nakyung finished her shift, it was a full storm.

Lightning flashed.

Thunder boomed so loudly it rattled her chest.

She hated nights like this.

They reminded her too much of that night.

The night her mother was taken from her.

Her hands felt cold.

She pulled her hoodie tighter, rushing through the empty streets.

She just needed to get home.

Away from the storm.

Away from the memories.

But the world wasn't that kind.

She felt it before she saw it.

A presence.

Someone following her.

Her breath hitched.

Her fingers curled into fists.

She glanced over her shoulder—

A man in dark clothing, hood up, keeping his distance but not too far.

Shit.

She knew this game.

She had been through this before.

Her father's debts still haunted her.

And now, they had come knocking again.

She took a sharp turn into an alley.

Faster steps.

Faster heartbeat.

The rain soaked her completely, but she didn't care.

All she needed to do was get to her apartment.

But the moment she reached the stairs—

A rough hand grabbed her wrist.

Her body froze.

Her breath stopped.

"Running won't help, sweetheart."

A voice—deep, smug, and too familiar.

The kind of voice that belonged to men who thought they owned people.

Nakyung's pulse was loud in her ears, drowning out the sound of the rain hammering against the ground. The man's hand was still on her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin like a vice, but the cold that ran through her wasn't from the rain. It was from the terror, raw and deep, clawing at her chest.

No. Not again.

She had spent years running from these shadows—shadows of debts, of promises broken, of fear that would never loosen its grip on her. The last time her father's debt collectors came, they took her mother. They took her world.

And now, standing in this alley, she was sure they were back. That same helplessness swept over her, the feeling of being trapped, powerless. Her throat closed, and for a second, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All she could do was fight back the panic, fight to stay grounded.

She twisted her wrist, trying to free herself from the stranger's grasp. But his hold was too strong, his fingers like iron. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the man leaned in, his face smirking under the dim light of a flickering streetlamp.

"You're just like your old man, aren't you?"

The words hit her like a slap.

Her stomach twisted. Her pulse hammered harder against her throat. She hated this. She hated how his words could bring the past back so sharply.

But just as quickly as the fear paralyzed her, another presence surged forward. The footsteps were familiar—louder than the rain. Heavy, yet calm.

Nakyung's heart skipped a beat as she looked up, her breath halting in her chest.

Seung Tae.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, a shadow framed by the flickering light from the streetlamp. His usual smirk was absent, replaced with something more dangerous, something raw. His stance was rigid, and his eyes were locked on the man holding Nakyung, narrowing with unrestrained fury.

There was no bravado, no cocky attitude—just a deep, consuming anger. For a moment, it was as if the world around them had faded, leaving only the three of them standing in the storm.

"Let her go."

Seung Tae's voice was cold, each word weighted with authority. It wasn't a threat—it was a command. And the strange thing was, the man holding Nakyung seemed to feel it. The air between them crackled with tension, a stand-off that felt too real, too dangerous.

For a split second, the stranger hesitated. His hand tightened around Nakyung's wrist, as though to remind her who was in control, but then he glanced at Seung Tae. The cold fury in Seung Tae's gaze seemed to make him think twice.

"This isn't your business, kid," the man growled, trying to regain control of the situation, but the words held less weight now.

Seung Tae stepped forward, his steps deliberate, calm, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. His eyes never left the man's face as he took another step closer, his voice colder than the storm around them.

"It is now."

The words were a final warning. A challenge.

Nakyung felt the man's grip loosen slightly, as if the air between them had shifted. Seung Tae was in control now.

She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, echoing in her chest like the beat of a war drum. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to run, to get away from this, but she couldn't. She stood frozen, her eyes locked on Seung Tae as he closed the distance. She didn't know what was more terrifying: the fear she felt for herself, or the realization that Seung Tae—of all people—had just saved her.

The man took one last glance at Seung Tae and, seeing the resolve in his eyes, let out a low chuckle. "You think you can stop me?" he sneered.

But before he could make a move, Seung Tae's voice rang out again, low and dangerous.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

There was a finality in his words, a promise of consequences, and the man knew it. Without another word, he released Nakyung's wrist with a sharp jerk and backed away slowly.

Nakyung's legs almost gave out under her, but she stayed standing, her body still tense, still bracing for whatever came next. The man shot them one last look, his eyes flicking between Seung Tae and Nakyung, then turned and disappeared into the rain.

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. The rain continued to pour, a constant reminder of the storm that raged around them. Nakyung stood there, her breathing shallow, her wrist throbbing from where the man had gripped her so tightly. The fear, though, was still there, still gnawing at her insides.

And then there was Seung Tae.

He didn't say anything for a moment, his eyes scanning her, his expression unreadable. His hands were still clenched into fists, his body tense as if he expected the danger to come rushing back at any moment.

Nakyung opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words stuck in her throat. The storm around them felt too loud, too overwhelming, and she felt small in it all.

But then, without a word, Seung Tae took a step toward her. He reached out, brushing his fingers gently against her arm, his touch like a spark against the damp air.

For the first time that night, she shivered—not from the cold, but from the intensity in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low, careful. It wasn't the usual cocky tone, the taunting edge. It was different—something softer, something vulnerable.

Nakyung didn't respond immediately, her mind racing, her heart still pounding. She had never felt this close to him before, not like this. He had saved her, but why? Was it because he cared? Or was this just another one of his games?

She could barely bring herself to answer, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

"I... I don't need you to save me," she muttered, her voice quieter than she intended, her gaze dropping to the ground.

Seung Tae's lips parted slightly, and for a moment, she swore she saw something flicker in his eyes—something she couldn't place. Something almost like regret.

But the storm kept raging. The world kept spinning. And in that moment, both of them were just two lost souls in a world that never seemed to stop trying to break them.